Normal
by pratz
Summary: "I want normal that leads to, revolves around, and centers on you." Quinn's POV. Future fic.


**Normal**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

Rating: PG

Character(s): Exclusively Quinn (and Rachel, in absentia)

Note: I'm so overwhelmingly ecstatic about the responses _Against a Memory_ got, and this is my writing to appreciate you all. On a lighter note, this is just my experiment to write in the style of one sentence for one paragraph. Oh, and this is the first time I wrote from Quinn's POV, so I hope I didn't mess it up. Do read and tell me what you think.

P.S.: I don't know if you've read this, but this poem seriously reminds me of Faberry. .com (slash) post (slash) 24531315760 (slash) poem-if-i.

-.-.-.-.-

I want normal.

I want normal that doesn't involve waking up at three in the morning to chase orcas or the great whites, doesn't involve making way to the beeline of frigates who crack mighty ice, doesn't involve putting all those ten kilograms worth of camera and lenses and filters in one backpack, doesn't involve getting as close as possible to those beasts whose raw beauty and fierceness always, always take my breath away but not in the way you do as you run your fingers through your hair and I could only watch, mesmerized.

I want normal that doesn't involve making glass after glass of coffee just to keep myself awake night after night to deal with job after job—job that I take to keep myself busy because being busy means I won't have time to pause and not having time to pause means I won't have time to think about you.

I want normal that involves my heart's skipping a beat when I get a text message from you even though it is nothing special in particular, that involves my thumbs' hovering in doubt over the keypad, buying some time, thinking of what to type to reply, and when I finally manage to get the words out, I find them ridiculous and silly and so much like what an overgrown teenager does they embarrass me so much, that involves my finally deleting them even before my gadget has a chance to give birth to them.

I want normal that involves sitting next to you on the couch in front of the television and its suckity channels, uncaring of the way you mindlessly browse through channels, only caring about your presence even though our arms don't even brush against each other, our knees separated by the scrapped, worn pair of jeans you insist to wear because it was the first jeans you bought with my tagging along behind as you wandered through store aisles.

I want normal that involves your bickering about my reading glasses that you call geeky, about the track pants that I favor to wear like no other, about my habit of sleeping in your NYADA shirt, about my misplacing your favorite song books on the shelves, about your burning your fingers as you try to cook something from my cooking books, about chicken and eggs or macchiato and cappuccino or Patagonia and Matterhorn.

I want normal that involves your stopping me from leaving for my flight; a small tug on my wrist—a touch whose hesitance perhaps even you don't realize, a touch that burns through my skin and imprints itself on my mind—something that can only be done by you, always you, especially you.

I want normal that involves my having fluttering butterflies in my stomach as I see your figure disappear at the end of the stairs or at the end of a corridor where we part, that involves my hoping to no avail that perhaps, perhaps you'll notice and turn and join me, that involves my letting go of whatever pride I hold and let myself just fall, fall, fall.

I want normal that involves watching the curve of your back as you lean onto the railing on my balcony, trying to find a perfect spot for a photograph of yourself with your beloved city as the background, that involves my watching you pivot on your heel to face me, that involves my wishing I already have my camera to record the way the sunlight falls on your eyelashes, disperses from a halo on your head, and illuminates your figure, that involves my wishing to my hardest that Time slows, halts and dies.

I want normal because it's just not made for me.

I want normal even though it is so underrated.

I want normal that leads to, revolves around, and centers on you.


End file.
